Road Through California
by Howling1
Summary: Sequel to "Coming Out". Prop Eight has passed in California, but Jasper and his family aren't going down without a fight. When Brian and Stewie decide to come help them, things get more chaotic than anyone could have imagined. DISCONTINUED
1. Another Adventure Begins

**A/N:** Well, after almost a year, I'm back. This is the sequel to my first Family Guy fanfic, "Coming Out", which I highly suggest you read before you read this, otherwise a lot of it won't make sense. I'd been hanging onto a few ideas for this thing ever since I finished the first one, but this recent election gave me the perfect starting point. Just to warn you, there will be SLASH in this fanfic. That means male/male relationships, for those who aren't familiar. If this ain't your cup of tea, turn back now.

Also, know that if I make fun of something in the cutaways (just as the real Family Guy does), it probably means I'm actually a huge fan of it. A few people were confused about that, so I just wanted to clarify. Onwards!

**Please note that I've modified this chapter since I originally posted it.**

* * *

"That's fantastic, Jasper!" Brian shouted, pumping a fist in the air. Lois turned away from doing the dishes and gave him a questioning look, but Brian shook his head and gestured to the telephone pressed to his ear, where a slight laugh could be heard on the other end.

"That it is, cousin," Jasper was saying. "What with the state legislature speaking out against Prop 8, the snowball's rollin' now! The stats just came in; we're at the campaign headquarters at the moment." Brian heard him sigh. "Now we just have to get to the hearings on March 5 …"

Brian jumped off the chair to start pacing around the kitchen table, the phone still pressed to his ear. "All right. So they're ready to start hearings on gay marriage in California. Again. The question is, what comes next for you guys?"

Jasper tsked. "I suppose it's back to campaigning for us. Get the word out to as many people as possible, but mostly people who can do somethin' about it. It's gonna be a hard slog, cousin. We're facing a lot of opposition and we're gonna need a lot more help."

"Yeah, well, you're gonna get it. I'll be on the next flight to Hollywood, Jasper. In the meantime, say hi to Ricardo and the pups for me," Brian said. Beside him, Lois dried her hands and sat down at the table herself, still eyeing Brian, who raised an eyebrow at her.

"Will do, Bee-ri," said Jasper, with another light laugh. "Thanks, cous', I'll see you soon."

Brian hung up the phone and sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. Beside him, Lois patted him on the shoulder as he hopped back onto the seat next to her. "That was Jasper, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Brian said, sighing again. "He and I are both ready to restart the fight against Prop 8." A pause. "I just can't believe it even passed in the first place."

"I'm sorry, Brian," Lois said sympathetically, "I guess a lot of people just aren't ready to move forward. I mean, you remember with me; it took a revelation from my own parents to get me to change my mind. God only knows how much more difficult it is for other Californians."

"Difficult or not, it's still a blatant means to strip people of rights," Brian said angrily. "Not to sound preachy or anything, but it's even more unfair than Peter's last birthday gift to Meg."

* * *

"Oh, Dad, you shouldn't have!" gushed Meg, tearing open the wrapping on the rather large box that Peter had given her. "What is it, what is it?"

Having finished unwrapping, she opened the box, then frowned in confusion; poking around it with her hands, she felt into every corner before muttering confusedly, "There's nothing in here…" She picked the box up and turned it over her head, trying to look inside – and that's when Peter burst out laughing.

"Oh, I _totally_ just farted in that box!" Peter guffawed loudly, to Meg's utter shock and disgust. "Now my fart is _all over you!_ Meg's covered in Peter fart! Hahahahahaha!!"

* * *

"Well, if you feel like you need to go there and help out the new campaign, then that's what you need to do," Lois said reassuringly, putting her hand on Brian's shoulder again (Brian tensed up immediately, but Lois didn't notice). "Call us when you get there."

"Thanks, Lois," Brian smiled, hopping off the chair. "I'll be there as long as it takes. California needs a wake-up call, and we're just the ones to give it to them."

It was at that moment that Stewie scurried into the room, obviously having been eavesdropping. "Oh, oh, what's this? Brian's going away, is it? For an open-ended period of time? Oh, splendid, splendid!" He jumped up and down on the balls of his feet, clapping.

"Oh, don't pretend you won't miss me," Brian scoffed, as Lois chuckled and left the kitchen. "After everything that happened last year, there's no way you can deny it." He paused, then muttered, "Funny thing is, none of us have seemed to age since then…"

"What?" Stewie asked.

"What?"

"Look, whether I miss you or not, I might as well know why you're going away," Stewie said, idly dusting off Rupert's shoulder. "Trying to revive your award-winning direction for pornography, are we?"

"Hollywood has nothing to do with me going there, Stewie; it's about Prop 8," Brian said, rolling his eyes.

"Prop who-de-what now?"

"Prop Eight modified the California state constitution to ban gay people from getting married," Brian said slowly and patiently; he had given this speech many times before, when he had volunteered to call undecided voters as part of the campaign. "It was put on the ballot after they overturned the ban in the summer because it was unconstitutional. The best that gay people can do now is enter a civil union."

"So let me get this straight – they overturned it, thereby _allowing_ gay marriage … then they took it right back less than six months later?" Stewie asked.

"That's about the sum of it," Brian said.

"Well, then, good God, man, I'm going with you!" Stewie said, putting his hands on his hips. "You know how Rupert is; this is an issue that's very important to him! Now, where should we book our tickets for the flight? I'm thinking we should go with SouthWest. What do you think about SouthWest?"

"Wait, wait, wait, Stewie, hang on," Brian said, holding up his hands. "You seriously want to come with me? What could you possibly contribute?"

"Oh, I can be very persuasive, Brian," Stewie said, and he grinned evilly. "You of all people should know that. And hey, a brilliant strategist certainly couldn't hurt your chances for the campaign, now could it?"

"God, you're modest," Brian said sarcastically. "All right, fine. But you're not allowed to bring any chemicals or weapons." He glanced at Stewie's teddy bear before adding, "And neither is Rupert."

"Oh, _fine_," Stewie scoffed, and he grabbed Rupert's paw and marched out of the kitchen. Brian could hear him talking to the teddy bear as he walked: "Are you excited, Rupert? Oh, I'm excited. We'll get to see all the pups again, and we'll get to be in _Hollywood_, and we can go to meetings, and win friends and influence people, and massacre anybody who gets in our way…"

Brian sighed. "Sheesh, this'll be weirder than the new season of _Heroes_."

* * *

_This fall, on NBC:_

"I'm good, but I'm really evil," said Mohinder Suresh, transforming from a kindly-looking scientist into a huge nasty cockroach-type thing.

"I'm evil, but I'm really good," said Syler, blasting a wall with blue fire, blowing a hole in it, before pulling the fire back into his smoking hand and blowing on his finger as if it were a gun.

"And me? Well, no one knows what to make of me," said Claire Bennet, coming forward and slicing her own wrist with a knife; the wound healed in seconds. "Other than that I have a total lesbian thing going on with Elle here."

"I can shoot electricity; she can take it. It's a match made in heaven," said the blonde bombshell, idly flicking bolts into the air.

_Looking for another confusing chain of sudden plot twists and turns? Want to be sure you never know who the bad guys are and who the good guys are? Then be sure to tune into _Heroes_ on NBC this fall, at least until it jumps the shark. Which it may already have. Who knows with these kinds of shows?_

_

* * *

_

The next morning, Brian stood in the family room, a little blue backpack slung over his shoulders as he tapped his foot, waiting. The rest of the family sat on the couch, talking to each other animatedly. "Stewie, you planning on coming down anytime soon?" Brian called.

"I just have to pick out my shoes!" came the voice from upstairs. "What do you think – white or off-white? Oh, it's after Labor Day, isn't it? I can wear the white shoes, then – or is it you're supposed to wear the _off-_white?"

"Just pick a color and get down here!" Brian shouted. "We're going to miss our flight!"

Soon, Stewie came hopping down the stairs, dragging a little purple backpack behind him, out of which poked his teddy bear's head. "I decided to go with the white," Stewie said, holding up a shoe proudly. "Rather dashing, wouldn't you say?"

"Um … yeah. People won't be able to keep their eyes off you," Brian said, sighing. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "All right, let's get going."

"Have fun in California, boys!" Lois said, standing up off the couch to hold the front door open for the two of them. "And Brian, take good care of Stewie. You know how adventurous he can get!"

"You have no idea," Brian muttered, shaking his head.

"Bye, Stewie! Bye, Brian!" said Chris, waving. "Don't take candy from strangers! Unless it looks like really good candy, in which case it might be all right."

"Come back soon, Brian. I'll really miss you," said Meg quietly, then, realizing her slip-up, she added, "Uh, and take care of Stewie, like Mom said."

"Man, you guys are going to have so much fun!" Peter said, as he watched Brian buckle Stewie into the passenger seat of his Prius before getting in and starting the car. "You'll have more of a blast than I did when I rode the new Space Mountain at Disneyland!"

* * *

"_IT'S JUST LIKE THE ORIGINAL EXCEPT IT ISN'T!_" Peter shouted at the other guests as the little rocket car shot and plummeted its way down the track. "_I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THE HELL I'M GOING! LOOK HOW MUCH FUN I'M HAVING!!_"


	2. Slight Delay

Brian and Stewie's plane took to the sky with a roar, jostling the passengers inside and causing Stewie to check on Rupert, who was seated in the seat between him and Brian, to make sure he was all right.

"See, Rupert? It's easy," Stewie was saying. "Just hold your nose, like this," he demonstrated, "and then blow. And that way, you'll keep your ears popped. Come on, Rupert, blow."

Rupert did nothing.

"_Blow_, Rupert!" Stewie shouted, getting angrier. "_BLOW!"_

Still Rupert did nothing.

Stewie crossed his arms. "Fine, then, don't believe me. Lord knows you're perfectly good at blowing; I mean, I remember the time when —"

"Okay, stop; there is a _really_ dirty joke in there and I am not going to be hearing it," said Brian sternly, cutting Stewie off and glaring at him over the top of his book, _Dreams from My Father_. "I'm trying to do some important stuff here, all right? So let's just get through this flight, get through the layover in Arkansas, and then get to California, and try not to kill each other along the way." He adjusted his glasses and went back to reading, his expression still stern.

"Oooh, someone's a mite testy," said Stewie nonchalantly; he reached across Rupert's shoulder and poked Brian in the side (Brian didn't react except to roll his eyes). "Care to explain your reasoning, dear Brian?"

Brian sighed and put the book down on his lap. "It's just ... I really thought Jasper and Ricardo had a chance with this thing, you know? I mean, this race was the closest it's been in years, but we still get the same result. And if California, which has one of the largest gay populations in the country, can't get gay marriage passed, then what hope is there going to be for these hearings? Hell, what hope is there going to be left for the U.S. in general?"

"Oh, stop worrying, we'll overturn it," said Stewie, undoing his seat belt and going over to Brian's seat, patting the dog on the shoulder. "And on a related note, how many brochures about Prop 8 did you read?"

"I don't know, why?" said Brian absently.

"Because you're starting to sound like one," replied Stewie, poking Brian in the side again. "You need to chill out. Once we get there, things will change."

"You sound remarkably confident for someone who didn't know what Prop 8 was until yesterday," Brian remarked, picking up his book again.

"Oh, believe me, Brian, I know how to make things go my way," said Stewie, drumming his fingers together conspiratorially. "Just ask the _Chicago Tribune_."

* * *

"Now the headline is _going_ to read 'Dewey Defeats Truman', and I shall silence anyone who dares say otherwise!" Stewie shouted from his desk as editor-in-chief of the famous newspaper.

"But sir, Dewey didn't —" one of the typographers started to say timidly.

"_I SAID DO AS I SAY!_" shouted Stewie, and all of the workers on the printing press hastened to follow his orders.

"This'll be one for the books," one of the workers muttered to himself.

* * *

Several hours later, Brian and Stewie's plane landed once more and glided into the hangar, slowly coming to a stop. Rupert still refused to pop his ears, despite Stewie's continued protests.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Arkansas," came the voice of the pilot, who sounded oddly familiar. "If you are continuing on with us to Los Angeles, California, please remain in your seat. Otherwise, have a nice day, and we thank you for traveling with us."

Stewie crossed his arms. "God, I still can't _believe_ we didn't go with SouthWest," he said grumpily, before undoing his seat belt again. "Hey, dog, come on. I want some snacks."

Brian looked up from his book. "Stewie, we have to stay in our seats; didn't you hear the pilot?"

"Oh, come _on_, it'll only take a second," Stewie said, then undid Brian's seat belt for him and pulled him out of the seat. Brian tried not to think about where Stewie's fingers had just been.

"Fine," Brian said. "God, I can't believe I agreed to take you with me..."

"Oh, lighten up, Brian, I'm _loads_ of fun," Stewie smirked, but before he could say any more, Quagmire stepped into their path, dressed in his pilot uniform and wearing his traditional seductive smile.

"Quagmire?" Brian said, coming to a halt.

"Hey Brian, hey Stewie," Quagmire said cheerfully. "So you two are off to California too, huh? Fun stuff!"

"Yeah..." Brian said, trailing off: He had suddenly remembered Quagmire's reaction when he'd been asked to sign the petition for gay marriage in Quahog. ("Two halves can't make a whole without a hole! Giggity, giggity, giggity, giggity!") "...fun stuff."

"We're off to get Prop 8 overturned," said Stewie cheerfully, totally oblivious, and Brian smacked himself in the forehead.

"Is that so? Well, good for you, little guy!" Quagmire said, patting Stewie on the head, to Brian's surprise.

"Quagmire, I thought you didn't believe in gay marriage," Brian said, confused.

"Oh, I didn't!" Quagmire said; his smile faded and his look trailed off into the distance. "But then I realized something. Something that cut me deep, Brian. Oh, it cut me real deep. I realized that if gay marriage gets abolished ... then those lesbians won't have any more of their wild sex!" he finished, and Brian's look changed to one of disgust. "I can't have that, Brian! Gay marriage _has_ to be legalized! For the lesbians!"

"...Yeah," Stewie said slowly, "...for the lesbians."

"I'll just be right back," Quagmire said mischievously, "I'm gonna go see if I can't find some now! And if I manage to jump my way in the middle of it, well, then it's a good day to be a Quagmire!"

"Oh, who else but Quagmire?" Stewie smiled, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

"_He's Quagmire, Quagmire, you never really know what he's gonna do next, he's Quag—_"

"Okay, ENOUGH!" Brian shouted, and the background singers who seemed to have come from nowhere were cut off with a mysterious record scratch. "That's all of Quagmire I can take for the day; let's just get your snacks and go back to our seats."

They followed Quagmire out the airline door and over to the snack bar; as Brian was purchasing the snacks, Stewie looked around the airport. It was then that he noticed something odd: Waiting for another flight was a long line of children with what seemed to be their parents — only these parents were all gay couples. Stewie approached one of the children.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked the boy.

"We're leaving!" the boy said angrily; Stewie raised his eyebrows. "The state said my dads can't have me anymore, so we're going someplace that's more tolerant to our alternative lifestyles!"

"Good luck finding that," Stewie remarked. "So Arkansas voted to ban gay adoption, did it? What about the gay couples that stay here?"

The boy pointed, and Stewie turned around. Policemen were wrestling a girl away from two women who were sobbing and crying hysterically. "Our baby! Our baby!" one kept shouting.

"Oh, don't make a fuss," one of the officers said. "She'll be placed back into a loving, nurturing foster care system where she'll be bounced from home to home until she becomes a crack addict who lives on the street. You see? Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about!" the other officer repeated, as he finally wrenched the girl away from her parents. "Now, let's go find you a _proper_ family, yes we will," he cooed at the girl; she promptly threw up in his face.

"Now, don't be naughty —" the officer started to say, but what followed was a series of grunts and spasms; his eyes widened and he fell to the floor. The other officer turned away from fighting the two women to see what had happened, and he was hit with the buzzing too; he thrashed around comically for a second or two before he fell to the ground as well, revealing Stewie standing behind them with a taser in his hand.

"If I were you, I'd keep a better watch on your equipment, bitches," he said, and the line of gay couples with their children all applauded as the girl rushed back into the arms of her parents.

"I advise you to get on that flight," said Stewie to the two women, and he pointed at the line of gay couples. "Good luck and godspeed to you all."

He saluted them with two peace signs (much like Nixon would have) and went back to Brian, who was gathering the snacks in his arms.

"Where have you been?" Brian asked him, passing him some of the bags.

"Oh, just promoting a heavily liberal agenda," said Stewie evenly, and the two of them walked back to their plane. Fortunately, neither of them noticed Quagmire dashing in behind them, zipping up his pants and muttering "giggity" the whole way.

* * *

I highly doubt that the real Arkansas government would have policemen wrestling babies away from their gay parents, but it seemed like something that the show would do (to me, at least). As far as I know, it's still up in the air as to what will happen with real gay families that are already established in that state. (But damn, it's depressing, isn't it?) Also, to be clear, I do not really believe that the foster care system ends up making kids into crack whores who live on the street. That is one of the commonly held views, however. Which is also depressing.

(I really hope I don't end up having to do "damage control" after every chapter, but this is a controversial topic, and I don't want to offend anyone ... too much, anyway.)

Please note that I've also modified this chapter, very slightly. I changed a line or two, but that's it.

Thanks for reviewing, all!


	3. Many the Miles

**A/N: **There was originally a long, overblown author's note here, but it was taking up too much space, so I moved it to my profile. Visit it if you wish to see!

Also, my apologies, but I've slightly modified the first two chapters. (See profile for how and why.) Onward!

* * *

"Why do plane pilots always sound like Charlie Brown's teacher on the announcements?" Stewie asked disgustedly. He tilted his head to listen, but that couldn't make Quagmire's speech over the intercom any more decipherable.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've come to a landing ... MWAH MWAH MWAH ... on the left side of the airplane ... MWAH MWAH MWAH ... bent in half ... MWAH MWAH MWAH ... French lick."

"I, uh, don't think that's just announcing going on in there," Brian said slowly, taking off his glasses and storing his book away.

Stewie gave him a nasty look, but the other passengers had started to unload their baggage and move. Not wanting to be lost in the crowd, the two of them quickly jumped down from their seats, grabbed their things, and slowly filed out of the airplane.

"Ah, LAX," Stewie said reverently, holding his arms out and spinning around. "This is the place where rapists and kidnappers make their home. You know, they say someone died in here at one point, and if you listen closely on some nights, you can still hear him begging his agent for one more Hollywood gig."

"Quiet," Brian said. He had pulled out his cell phone and was dialing Jasper's number. It had been an early-morning flight, so they'd managed to arrive just as the sun had hit "oven cooking" temperature.

"Oh, I'm not looking forward to going out there," Stewie said, leaning on a nearby window. "Why, it'll feel worse than Rihanna did after Chris Brown got to her."

Everybody in the airport, including Brian, stopped what they were doing and turned to glare at Stewie.

"Too soon?" he asked, into the silence.

"Hello?" came Jasper's voice, which thankfully broke the tension, and everyone went back to what they had been doing. "Jasper, hi!" Brian said, smiling for the first time in what felt like days.

"Hey, cousin!" gushed Jasper. "You're here!"

"You bet we are," Brian laughed. "You think we'd miss this for the world?"

"Okay, yes, that's all very cute and lovely, but we need to get a move on, here," Stewie said, tapping his foot impatiently.

Brian ignored him. "Where do you want us to meet you?" he asked Jasper.

Jasper inhaled sharply over the phone. "Oooh, that's actually a problem, cous'. See, I'm in the middle of a music video shoot right now."

"Oh, really? Whose video?"

"Miley Cyrus!" Jasper said proudly, and Brian actually stopped in his tracks; behind him, Stewie looked interested.

"Wow, really? That's, uh ... that's really cool," Brian said. "So, do you want us to take a cab there, or...?"

"Actually, I sent Ricardo there to meet you," Jasper said, and Brian looked up just then and saw Jasper's husband standing at the entrance gates, holding a sign that said "Cousin and Little Man". "He'll bring you on over. Can't wait to see you, Bee-ri!"

"You, neither," laughed Brian, and he hung up the phone. Waving, he and Stewie pushed their way through the crowd toward Ricardo, who smiled a rare smile when he saw the duo, and waved back.

"Good God, McButt the Crime Dog is working with _Smiley Miley_ now?" Stewie asked scornfully. "She can't even sing! She's a pop princess manufactured by the evil Disney media machine so that they can sell records and movie tickets and DVDs that are all related to each other and then they'll be able to curl up in their million-dollar mansions with diamond-studded swimming pools and retire at the age of thirty. She has _no talent_."

"You know, I've seen your secret stash of Hannah Montana CDs," Brian said, not even looking at Stewie. "You don't have to pretend you don't like her."

"Her music's irresistible!" Stewie blurted. "I don't know of any reason that I should like it so much, but I do! And Rupert does too! We have no idea why!"

"Please. I know why," Brian said as they reached Ricardo, who wordlessly turned and led them out onto the streets of LA, where a car was waiting for them.

"Oh, really? Do share," Stewie said, climbing into the car with Brian.

"Well," Brian chuckled, "It's pretty typical for guys who like guys to enjoy her stuff."

Stewie crossed his arms and pouted. "When we meet her, I am _so_ telling her you said that," he grumbled.

* * *

Meanwhile, back home, Peter had sat himself on the couch and turned on the TV, scrolling through the channels until he found something interesting.

"Leading off the news tonight, Christian Bale is still feeling the backlash from his leaked rant from the _Terminator 4_ set," Tom Tucker was saying. He adjusted his fake mustache idly as he continued, "Bale has 'unreservedly apologized', saying that he, quote, 'acted like a punk'."

"Humph, serves him right," Peter grumbled, crossing his arms. "That guy was a jerk to me."

"In other news," Diane Simmons continued, stacking her papers, "companies everywhere continue to feel the pain from the tanking economy. Amusement parks have been particularly hard-hit, as consumers cut frivolous spending. It seems, incredibly, that it is cheaper to stay at home and enjoy a day in the sun rather than stuffing the entire family into a cramped car and going on a five-hour road trip, thereby wasting gas money, food money, and ticket money."

"And how have you been spending your money, Diane?" Tom asked her, seemingly nonchalantly.

"Not on you, Tom, so stop whoring yourself out to me," Diane snapped back crossly. "It has been speculated that Six Flags could close within the year, with others undoubtedly following as their finances continue to sink deeper into the red."

Tom opened his mouth to speak again, but Diane cut him off. "And Tom will not be saying any more during the rest of this newscast, due to his inability to resist dirty jokes at my expense. 'In the red' was undoubtedly going to lead to one."

Tom laughed snidely. "Well, hell, you can't stop me from saying—"

"_Please stand by. We are experiencing technical difficulties."_

"Aw, dammit, now I can't even watch TV!" Peter shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Huh. Guess I'll have to think of something else to do."

He paused for two seconds.

"Hey! I just thought of something to do!"

"Oh, there you are, Peter," Lois said, coming in from the kitchen with a basket full of laundry. "Do you think you could help me —"

"No time, Lois!" Peter shouted. He jumped up from the couch and inadvertently knocked the laundry basket out of Lois's hands, scattering clothes everywhere. "I am about to make a solid investment in our future finances. I ... am gonna build an amusement park!"

"Really," Lois said slowly, glaring at him as she picked up the fallen clothes. "And why might that be?"

"Simple! No one's goin' to the _other_ parks 'cause they're too expensive! So we just buy a ton of stuff, put it all together, and then charge real cheap for it! People will line up all along our street to get in!"

"Wait, wait," Lois said; she was now massaging her temples. "You can't _build_ an _amusement park_ on our street! That's illegal!"

"Eh, big deal, Lois," Peter said offhandedly. "What Michael Phelps did was illegal too, ya know."

* * *

Michael Phelps lit the bong and inhaled sharply, blowing a cloud of smoke out of his mouth before turning around, startled to see he was being watched. Nothing was said for a couple of seconds.

"What?" he asked, finally. "There is nothing about this that I can say or do that you haven't already heard. Just drop your Kellogg's cereal and move along."

* * *

Stewie and Brian hopped out of the car, carrying their bags behind them as Ricardo shut the door. The two of them looked up: they were standing in front of a large archway, with the words "HOLLYWOOD RECORDS" in bright letters along the top.

"Ah, this will be the perfect place to pursue my own career as a recording artist!" Stewie said as Ricardo let them under the archway to a nearby studio door. "You saw my music video; things can only go upward from there, dear Brian."

"Sure they can," Brian said flatly. "Believe what you want, Stewie."

"Oh, I will," Stewie said smugly. "I'll be as popular as Stevie Wonder. And better, too, because I can actually see my bright future!"

"Oooh, gonna get letters on this one..." Brian said, wincing.

He was spared from saying anything more when they went through the door; after rounding a few corners, they came upon a large, greenscreen set. Jasper was sitting toward the front, next to a large camera and several crew members. And in front of him, dancing through a rehearsal with her backup crew, was —

"Oh my God, Miley Cyrus!" Stewie said, screaming girlishly. "I'm, like, your _biggest—_" He was cut off as Brian clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him behind a nearby light stand.

"Look, could you _please_ not say anything to embarrass us in front of Jasper _or_ Miley? Let's just get through this," the dog said lowly.

"What are you talking about? I'm perfectly in control," Stewie said, quite smoothly it seemed. He brushed out the wrinkles in his overalls from where Brian had grabbed him. "I can be professional."

They peered out from behind the lighting fixture, where Miley and the dancers had stopped the rehearsal upon Jasper's request. Miley took a swig from a bottle of water and wiped her mouth before turning to Jasper, who was talking to her.

"Miley, honey, darling, that was _fabulous_," he was saying, clapping his hands together once before crossing his legs in the chair. "_Totally_ perfect. But there's just one thing. The song's name _is_ 'Simple Song', is it not?"

"That's the general idea, yeah," Miley said, breathing hard from her dancing.

"Okay, yes, well, see, I'm not entirely sure having you with all these dancers qualifies it as 'simple'," Jasper said. "It's nothing against them; they're _fabulous_," he added, and the dancers glanced among each other, looking very pleased with themselves. "But while it might be good for them to be dancing to this song on _tour_, I think it'd be better if it's just you this time around."

"Just me?" Miley repeated, looking disbelieving.

"Yes, yes, just you," Jasper said, looking slightly confused. "Does that not work for you?"

"No, no, it's just ... it's never 'just me'," Miley said, with a backwards glance at her dancers. "It's always Miley and Hannah, or Miley and the dancers, or Miley and Taylor ... it's never 'just Miley'."

"Well, now it is, darling," Jasper said, patting her hand (he was too short to reach her shoulder). "Are you guys okay with that?"

The dancers behind Miley shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, whatever," was the general consensus. "We'll see you for the performance tomorrow, Miley," one of the girls added as they left to go change.

Miley half-smiled as they retreated. "They're probably relieved to have a break from all this," she said, turning back to Jasper. "So should we go through the song again?"

"My God, she's talented, her music's perfect, _and_ she's down-to-Earth," Stewie whispered to Brian, who rolled his eyes. "Is there anything this girl _can't_ do?"

"Bet you'd totally be crushing on her if you could," Brian snickered.

"Well, she is hot," Stewie shrugged. Brian gave him an odd look. "What?" Stewie asked. "I'm younger than she is; I'm allowed to say that. It's not like I'm a twenty-year-old perv trying to leech off her like that skanky boyfriend she has—"

"And we're done," Brian said, grabbing Stewie's hand and pulling him along to talk to Jasper.


	4. An Abrupt Conclusion

White, white, everything was white. Brian fervently hoped that this was some kind of dream and not the nasty byproduct of Jasper and Ricardo's cupboard full of whipped cream exploding again. (In Jasper's words, "We don't use _all_ of it for cooking...")

Presently some of the blinding light began to fade away and Brian found himself standing in front of a rather large desk, which he was unfortunately too short to see over. Confused, but not really panicking (after all, this was a dream), he wished there was a box that he could stand on to allow him to see and, immediately, one appeared. Brian climbed on and discovered there was a large swivel chair seated behind the desk; its occupant had turned the chair around and had their back to him.

In the utter silence, Brian waited for a moment, but no response seemed to be coming from the chair. "Um, hello?"

"Now, how did you get here?" asked the occupant of the chair, swiveling around to face Brian. Expecting a major reveal, Brian was somewhat disappointed; after all, the man looked ordinary — he appeared to be in his thirties, with short, black hair and glasses and a somewhat cocky expression. What was _not_ ordinary was his voice, however; it was the exact same as Brian's.

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about," Brian said, disconcerted. "Isn't this a dream?"

"Maybe, maybe not," said the man cryptically, then laughed. "I'm just messing with you. Yes, this is a dream, Brian. No need to panic."

"How do you know my name?" Brian asked immediately. "I've never seen you before."

"Oh, I know you, Brian. I know you _extremely_ well. In fact, I know you, your friend Stewie, your other friend Peter, his neighbor Quagmire, the local reporter Tom Tucker, your cousin Jasper, and a multitude of the other colorful characters in your life."

Brian blanched. As he had named each of Brian's friends, the man's voice had slipped seamlessly into theirs. He had Stewie's accent, Peter's goofiness and Quagmire's overeager enthusiasm down to a T. Brian was most definitely concerned by now. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" the man asked innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, stop using my voice, okay!? It's extremely weird and not just a little disconcerting. Can't you just use your own?"

"This is my own voice. But, if you prefer, we could pretend your friend Stewie is talking to you instead," the man added, going back to Stewie's voice, which in Brian's opinion was even weirder. "How does that sound?"

"Look, just ..." Brian sighed, frustrated. "Does this dream have a point, and if so what is it?"

"Brian, you're here because it's time to go home," said the man, still talking as Stewie would. Brian glared at him, and he switched back to Brian's own voice instead. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget. Anyway, your time here, in this story, is over. It's necessary for all of us that you just ... move on."

"What do you mean, 'in this story'?" Brian asked. "I'm just trying to help Jasper fight Prop 8."

"You lost, Brian," said the man coldly; he himself looked extremely grim. "Prop 8 was upheld."

Brian felt like a large weight had fallen into his chest. "W...What? We lost? When did this happen!?"

"May 26," said the man. "Where have you been?"

"May 26?!" Brian felt his head spinning. "Last time I checked it was February 18... We'd just met Miley Cyrus, for crying out loud."

"...Yeah, that might have been a bad idea," the man admitted uncomfortably, shifting slightly in his swivel chair. "At any rate, Brian, we lost. There's nowhere else to go, at least at the moment ... which is why your time here is done."

"But it _can't_ be!" Brian cried, hopping off the box to pace back and forth. "We have to — I don't know — get petitions circling, try to get on the ballot for 2010 — or maybe 2012... we have to do _some_thing! We can't just lie back and let this die."

"Who said you'd be doing any of that?" the man responded, calmly. "Equality will be reached in this country one day, Brian, and we won't stop fighting until it does. But for now, we are outdated, and we have to focus our attentions elsewhere. Starting some of those petitions, for instance."

"So ... let me try and understand this," said Brian, rubbing his eyes. "We dilly-dallied too long and weren't successful in the short run, but if we remain committed, you think we can win this in the long run."

"Precisely," said the man, putting his fingertips together. "Which is why you need to go home. Times are changing, Brian. It's not enough just to make fun of things anymore, be they stupid people in power or famous celebrities. It's time to _act_. Which is precisely what we're going to do."

Brian didn't understand who 'we' was, but wearily decided not to pursue it. "So what happens now?" he asked, gazing at the man with his voice.

"When you wake up, you'll be back home in Quahog, ready to begin another set of hilarious misadventures with your family," said the man calmly, picking up a pencil (which Brian swore hadn't been there a second before) and twirling it in his fingers. "This particular chapter in your life is over, Brian, but don't lose hope. You've got your family and friends by your side the whole way."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive," said the man, smiling now. "Like I said, I do know _some_ things about your family..."

Brian felt oddly comforted by this. "So that's it, then? Just ... keep hoping that we'll get there, eventually?"

"I don't hope," said the man, putting the pencil down. "I _know._"

All was silent for several moments; apparently the man had said all he was going to say. Brian hesitated. "Well ... I guess I'll be going now, then."

"Say hello to your family and friends for me," the man replied cheerily. "Particularly Cleveland ... I hear tell he's leaving Quahog pretty soon."

"Wait a minute." Brian stood back up on the box and leaned across the desk to shake hands with the man; he obliged. "I never got your name. What was it?"

The man smiled.

"Seth. Seth MacFarlane."

* * *

_Sorry to end it this way, guys. It wasn't just because the court ruled in favor of Prop 8 (although that certainly didn't help), but a combination of factors. S__chool (and now, work) ended up keeping me too busy and the story relied on events that were too current (I had to keep modifying the first few chapters just to keep them __"__in the now__"__)__. I'd been meaning to update this thing every time some important news came out and I never had the time, so finally I just decided that it couldn't be done. I _will_ start a proper "Coming Out" sequel, and it will be soon (hopefully during the summer), but it won't be shamelessly preachy and involved with breaking news like this one was. It will be a real story, and not just a soapbox speech._

_Thanks to everyone who stuck it out thus far, and once again, my apologies. See you all for the next story!_


End file.
